TV Programs
by Cireca S.A.M
Summary: Johnny Cade is facing rejection from who he believed were even his closest friends.
1. Chapter 1

The air was cold, and Johnny Cade was freezing. He pulled his jacket closed even tighter as the wind whipped around him. Sleeping in the lot was becoming harder and harder for him, especially with the rapidly approaching winter weather. The young boy rubbed his hands together for more warmth. What would he do when it began to snow? It was not as if he could stay at home with his parents always yelling and hitting.

Johnny's mind wandered to the warm, soft couch in the Curtis family's living room. Darry had said that if Johnny needed a place to stay, their door was always open. For a second the greaser considered it, but then something made him think twice. It was the thought of the Curtis', all curled up in their beds. Ponyboy would be asleep underneath Soda's arm, and Darrel would be waking up to get ready for work in a few hours. The mental image Johnny had was calm and peaceful; he did not want to disturb it.

A lit cigarette was pressed between the teenager's lips as he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. Even though Johnny's good friend Ponyboy always asked him if he wanted to come back to his house with him, it never ended up happening. Ponyboy would never push or protest when Johnny somewhat openly rejected his belonging in the Curtis household. He never tried to urge Johnny that he was entitled to a meal and a place to rest his head. These were both, more or less, signs that Ponyboy was only asking out of politeness and not out of pure, genuine concern. Even Soda or Darry never really came right out and told the younger greaser that they wanted him to come back home with them for the day; instead they simply restated the fact that Johnny could stop in if he needed to. In his mind, Johnny thought that he did not need to, and that food and warmth and family were all a luxury. He would rather live without them than force his way into someone else's life.

Sometimes Two-Bit would drive by the lot when Johnny was there. He would peer down, over Kathy in the passenger's seat, at Johnny and ask if he was cold, or hungry, or hurt. There were times when Johnny was, and times where Johnny was not, and times where Johnny was all three. Very rarely, however, did Johnny ever tell Two-Bit the truth. He could only remember two instances when he had. The first time, when Johnny had not eaten in days, and was nearly half frozen to death, Two-Bit had told him to hop into the back seat. However, when the boy did, Two-Bit's girlfriend had spent a good portion of the whole ride back to the house glaring at the poor kid from the side mirror. The second time, Johnny had suffered a particularly harsh beating from his father. This time, even when Two-Bit would ask his friend questions or talk to him about things to try to make him feel better, Kathy had ignored Johnny altogether. It was as if she had refused to believe that he was there. After realizing just how much his friend's girl disliked him, Johnny had stopped asking Two-Bit for anything when she was around.

The kid's next resource was Dallas Winston. Even though he was a regulation JD, and bad news to anyone else, Dally had always been good to Johnny. He had always treated him like an actual person. Even when others were around, Dally had done his best to make Johnny part of the conversation. In addition, it made Dallas pretty angry when he saw the boy out in the lot all alone at night. On multiple occasions, Johnny had been forced to come with Dallas to wherever the hood had happened to be going, and then back to wherever his friend had planned on sleeping that night. Once again, Johnny ran into a problem with that. It seemed to everyone else that the smaller boy was just a tagalong to the main attraction, someone who Dally had felt sorry for and dragged in somewhere from the street. Maybe that was how Ponyboy Curtis felt when Steve would always try to get him to stay behind when he and Sodapop went somewhere. It made Johnny feel awful, just like when Kathy had blown him off. Eventually it became so agonizing that Johnny would always hide when Dally's car drove past the lot, which was not even vey often anymore since he was being arrested so much lately.

Aside from anyone else, there was one other person in Johnny's life that he had ever turned to for help. Steve Randle had never really been particularly kind to Johnny, but he had never really been very mean to him either. Sure, there were times when Steve would try to get rid of Johnny or hint that Johnny was beginning to annoy him, but that was typical and pretty expected from anyone. There were also times when Steve would invite the kid along for something or walk with him in the hallways to his next class just to watch his back for him, but Johnny figured Steve was just trying to be a good guy. Besides, the young greaser had only ever spent a night at Steve's house once. When he had, Steve had been gone the next morning. He had left before his friend had woken up and simply left a note saying that whenever he was feeling better he could leave and go anywhere else he wanted to. Even though some might take it as a message to get out, Johnny always tried to assume the best about people, and figured it probably sounded better spoken, not written. He had waited until Steve had come back during his lunch break. When he was spotted, though, the words that came out of Steve's mouth were, "What, you're still here?" Now, the guy had not meant to sound mean, but Steve did not exactly have the gentlest way of speaking to begin with, and he had only been kind of surprised to see that Johnny was still there. After the awkward silence had cleared up, Johnny had pretended he had forgotten his jacket there and quickly left before anything else could be said.

Johnny sighed. It seemed like it was pretty safe to say that he was not wanted anywhere. Even when he thought he was being accepted, or brought in, or welcomed, he was only being fooled. For a minute he felt like screaming as loud as he could, and for a minute he sat there, only screaming in his head. He wondered just how stupid he must be if he was always letting the same thing happen to him. Then, when he was just on the verge of tears, he stopped. Johnny realized that it would accomplish nothing, only make him feel worse.

Instead, Johnny just left himself drop. He fell from his sitting position into a pile in the frozen grass. Suddenly he felt like stopping. Nothing was important anymore; he did not care whether he froze or starved or was beaten to death. Johnny Cade had been defeated. He had truly given up.

Footsteps were coming his way. Johnny's eyes widened and he began to shift, but stopped. It was not worth the struggle. Johnny looked up cautiously at the figure that was passing by, hoping it was someone who was just going to keep walking. Unfortunately, Johnny's hopes did not very often come true. With his head held high and his shoulders relaxed in his fancy, thick jacket, the Soc approached Johnny wearily.

In the beginning Johnny wondered if he was drunk, but then he saw that he was not. The boy was simply being careful. He loomed over Johnny, staring down at him with a sort of shy curiosity. If Johnny had had the courage to stand up, he would have noticed that this boy was only about as big as he was.

"Hey," the Soc whispered. Johnny barely heard him; the kid was speaking so quietly. The greaser lied there on the ground, eyes huge with fright and head swarmed with emotions. Finally, Johnny managed a sound, a sort of grunt which wound up sounding kind of like a "Hm?"

"It'll be alright," the Soc told him. Johnny was confused. He was even more confused when the Soc said, "Take care of yourself."

He had sounded as if he really meant it. Then, just like that, the boy kept walking. As Johnny lied there, waiting for the Soc to come running back to kick him or something, he pondered the words in his head. _Take care of yourself._ Ten minutes passed before Johnny forced himself to sit up. First he grinned grimly to himself, then he stood.

"Yeah, I will," he said aloud to himself. Then, stuffing his hands in his pockets, he began walking down the street in the opposite direction.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Outsiders or any of the characters from The Outsiders. The same rule goes for the first chapter; I just forgot to write it there.**

**A/N: Wow, my first fanfic, and I already have three reviews? You can only imagine how happy that made me when I logged on. Thanks to those who reviewed, and sorry this is so overdue. I did not get a chance to post this because I came with my dad on a trip, so please forgive me. Hope you enjoy this next chapter.**

Johnny walked for a while, until he got to a convenient store that had closed at nine o'clock. He peered into the dark building through the window, spotting the cigarette rack just by the magazine stand. Turning on his heel, he kept going. His memory showed the small deli that stayed open late, along with the bar across the street from it. Having seen the horrible affects of alcohol at home already, Johnny had no desire to go into a bar, but he figured going to get something to eat would be safe enough.

There were not too many people on the street at that hour, but the greaser had always been more comfortable with less people. Johnny very rarely ever walked by himself anywhere, particularly in the daytime; mainly because there were so many people out that he was always scared the person standing next to him would be looking for a fight, or just in the mood to beat someone up. Sometimes he would go places with Ponyboy, or Dally, or even Two-Bit or Sodapop. It was always different with his friends around.

As Johnny neared the small building, with the lights all on inside, he came to a small surprise. It was not empty, as he had assumed it would be, but it was close to it. There were four other people inside. Two of them were sitting together, and the other two were seated in opposite ends. Johnny's mind began to race, and he almost broke out in a cold sweat. What would he rather do; stay to get something to eat and risk sitting with total strangers in one side of the deli, or risk sitting next to someone he knew but had no desire to run into alone at this time of night? Or maybe he should just head on back to the lot.

Johnny's legs began moving before he had decided what to do. The bell rang as he pushed the door open, and Johnny cursed himself inside his head. He prayed that no one would glance his way. Trying to make himself look tough was useless; he was weak from exhaustion and hunger, and the previous happier mood he had been in was replaced with a melancholy feeling when he had peered into the deli. Johnny flipped his hair so that it covered most of his face, and then raised the collar of his denim jacket. As he approached the counter, he kept his eyes down.

"Hey there. Can I help you?" asked the woman behind the counter in a gravelly voice as she popped her gum.

"I'll just have whatever's cheap," Johnny mumbled, trying to keep his voice low. He did not have much money to spare, but he had not eaten in quite a while. He remembered that it was a school morning, and figured that he had about three hours to spare before he would have to be on his way.

"We've got bread," the lady said, with a bit of a cocky, sarcastic ring to it. She laughed at her own joke, and Johnny felt a few drops of spit hit his face, but would not let himself wipe them away yet.

"I guess I'll take it," he replied nervously. "I'll have as much as two dollars can buy…"

"I can get you a six-inch hoagie," the woman informed, a bit more seriously.

"That'll do it," said Johnny, taking a chance to glance around the room. There were many empty tables and stools across the deli to choose from, but he wanted to pick a seat that was just right. He would try to avoid the couple in the middle of the room, laughing and talking loudly. The boy was a few years older than he was, and probably twice his size. Johnny knew that sometimes guys would beat someone up just for, supposedly, looking at his girl. Then again, if Johnny sat on the left side of the room, he would be all alone with the other man over there. Johnny could have sworn he was part of the Shepards' gang, and it was impossible to tell if he had a blade underneath his thick, black leather coat. He looked real mean and tough, and Johnny had no desire to be facing him.

However, it seemed as if the other side would be just as bad to sit at. Johnny knew that his friend would never hurt him, be that did not stop him from feeling less than enthusiastic about sitting all alone with him, eating, with nothing to do but talk to him. Johnny was never much of a talker, and he would feel even shyer being the center of his buddy's attention. It would be downright impossible to sit anywhere near him without being noticed, and awkward being asked why Johnny did not want to sit with him.

Johnny sighed as he paid the deli worker behind the counter and collected his food. Then, as he turned around, he felt himself flinch as he heard, from the right side of the room, a familiar voice call out, "Johnny?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Outsiders, or any of the characters from The Outsiders. **

**A/N: Okay, well. This is my first fanfic, and I'm thinking this might be the last chapter. Unless someone specifically wants another chapter, I'm not sure I'll make one, so I hope you enjoyed it! And yes, quick update, wasn't it? Well, I'm here at work with my dad just writing so… Thank God for laptops! **

**Wow, my first fic and I already have reviews! And from people as famous as TheNightimeSky, and others. Sorry, but that is just an incredible thought to me! Anyway, I haven't been on in a while except for yesterday and today, so I'm going to try to get caught up, because anyone who is nice enough to review my story deserves a review themselves. Thanks for all of the amazing reviews, constructive criticism is much appreciated!**

"Johnny?" his friend asked.

Johnny looked to the ground, trying to keep his voice from shaking as he replied, "Hey, Steve. What are you doing here?"

"What am I doing here? I just finished working an early-morning shift down at the DX for some extra cash. What are you doing here?" Steve demanded. There it was again; that way of talking that Steve had that made his voice sound rough and harsh, whether Steve knew about it or not. For a second Johnny wondered if that was the same voice Steve used to talk to Evie with.

"I was just in the lot, and I got… hungry," Johnny answered, mentally cursing himself for stuttering.

Steve's eyes narrowed. "And you didn't come find one of us tonight because…? It's freezing out there, Johnnycake. Are you trying to catch the flu or what? And you know how dangerous it is for you to be walking around alone out here at this time of night?"

"I'm sorry," Johnny replied lamely.

In return, Steve pulled out a chair at the table next to where he stood. "Sit down," he told Johnny, who did as he was told. Then, Steve walked up to the counter. "Get me another Coke," he said, slapping fifteen cents onto the flat surface.

Steve popped open the bottle as he took a seat in front of Johnny. "I was just about to leave," he informed his friend, "drive around before school, and maybe hang around with Evie. But, I guess I can stick around a little longer." Johnny only nodded in response to what Steve said, determined not to make eye contact with the other boy. Instead, he stared at the tiles on the floor. "Johnny? Aren't you going to eat? You're just sitting there. You said you were hungry."

"Oh, right," Johnny grumbled, turning back to his steaming hot hoagie. The sandwich burned his tongue and mouth as he took a bite, but Johnny chewed it and swallowed anyway. It tasted good, better than any food Johnny ever got at home.

"It's not exactly great food, is it?" Steve asked. "Here, wash it down with some of this." The pop bottle slid over to Johnny, who intercepted it and tipped it back, sipping more than he had intended to. When he passed it back to Steve, his friend only said, "Didn't you want anymore?" After seeing Johnny's shocked expression, he added, "Eh, whatever."

Steve leaned back in his chair as Johnny ate. Suddenly feeling guilty and self-conscious, Johnny glanced away and slid his plate forward. It took a moment for Steve to realize what this gesture meant, but when he did his jaw nearly dropped open. "No, I don't want any Johnny. I just ate. Besides, you told me you were hungry."

"I've had enough," Johnny said, barely audibly.

"You barely ate half," Steve argued, pushing it back towards Johnny, who turned his head away. "C'mon, man," Steve tried again. Now Steve was becoming concerned. When Johnny still did not answer, Steve crossed his arms in front of his chest and said seriously, "You have to eat, kid. You can eat here, or I can drive you over to Soda and Darry's house, and they can pin you down and force feed you."

"No," Johnny whispered, "please…"

"What was that?" Steve asked.

Then a burst of adrenaline ran through Johnny. He stood up suddenly, rocking the table, and exclaimed, "I said you know they don't want me there anyway!"

Steve stood up next, and yelled loudly, "You know that's not true, Johnnycake!"

An awkward silence fell over the room as all eyes turned to Johnny and Steve. The only noise that could be heard was from the bar across the street. Suddenly, Johnny noticed that he was looking at Steve straight in the eyes. He quickly averted his gaze before realizing all of what he had just done.

Quiet, shy, little Johnny had just stood up and yelled in Steve Randle's face. And he was probably going to get clobbered for doing so. Johnny imagined himself in the hospital, Ponyboy standing up in homeroom to explain that Johnny would be out of school for a week while he recovered from being beaten and stabbed earlier that morning. Johnny could only think of how his teacher would react, and how his classmates would look, and how shocked that adorable brunette in the second row would be to hear that the same Johnny who had once carried her lunch tray for her was hurt that badly by his own pal.

Johnny felt Steve grab him around the shoulders and instinctively flinched. However, instead of being hit, Johnny opened his eyes to find Steve's arm around him, dragging Johnny along with him to the door.

"C'mon, kid," Steve said, "we're going over to the Curtis' right now to get this straightened out." Steve must have forgotten that it was only about five thirty in the morning.

Johnny's face paled. The Curtis' house was probably one of the last places he wanted to be. He had to stop to wonder if he really would rather go home or not.

"Which one of them told you that they didn't want you around?" Steve asked. "Was it Darry? Well, I'm not scared of him. Darry always was a hard-a—"

"No," Johnny interrupted Steve in mid-word. "It wasn't Darry. It wasn't anybody."

Steve froze and turned to look at Johnny. The younger boy just stared at his shoes. "Then, why would you think they don't like having you around?"

"I… I don't know, man. I just get the feeling… It's not too hard to tell when you aren't wanted." Johnny replied.

"Don't they tell you enough?" Steve ranted on. "Don't they show you how much they want you there?" He hopped into his car, opening the door on the passenger's side for his friend. Johnny climbed in a little nervously. Believe it or not, this was only the second time Johnny could ever remember riding in the front of a car.

"It's okay, Steve. Really."

"No, it's not okay. You shouldn't be feeling left out like this, Johnny. You shouldn't be having to worry about people not liking you, because we all do. The whole gang loves having you, Johnny. And if you think for one minute that we don't, well… It kind of hurts, you know that? It hurts when you have someone that you care about feeling all like a reject or something… It kind of makes you wonder what you're doing wrong. Like, I don't know if I should be sad or mad or what…"

Johnny sat there, awestruck that Steve could be so emotional. His friend sure did a good job of coming off mean and tough and heartless, but he now saw that that was just an act. He found himself wishing he had sat in the back after all. It would be easier to hide that tears that were gathering in his eyes.

"I… I don't got anywhere to go," Johnny said. "I can't go home, I can hardly go outside without being scared…"

"That's not true, Johnny. You've got lots of places to go. And, I know it might seem like I don't want you around or something, but… You can walk in whenever I'm working, okay? The same goes for Sodapop, too. Just go in and see him. It'll make him happy, I bet you. You don't have to worry."

By now they were just about at the Curtis' house. Johnny turned away from Steve and pressed the sleeve of his jacket to his eyes, soaking up the tears before they fell. No one had really made Johnny feel so… welcome. For once, Johnny felt like he belonged. He wondered how he had gotten big, tough, Steve Randle to open up to him like that.

"And, listen, Johnny," Steve said as he parked the car on the street next to the Curtis' house. "I, uh… I kind of have a rep for being pretty tough, you know? Maybe you could keep quiet about this or something? Soda would never let me live it down."

Johnny nodded his head. He understood. And, who knows, maybe he wanted to keep this moment to himself anyway. As he crawled out of the car and followed Steve up to the Curtis' doorstep, he wondered if things would be any different. Would he and Steve be closer now? Or would Steve avoid him now that he had told Johnny so much? Would anyone else find out?

"Morning, you two. You're up early," Darry greeted from the living room. He stood up, picking up an empty plate with him. "Ponyboy and Soda are still asleep."

"Yeah, I bet he is," Steve grumbled, referring to Sodapop. "He said he would come work a spare shift with me this morning. He slept in, that ba—"

"Watch it," Darrel warned. "That's my little brother you're talking about. Did you two eat already?"

"Yeah," Steve said, slumping onto the couch next to where Johnny had sat down. "But Johnny says he's still hungry," he lied.

"I'll go get you something to eat." Darry walked off into the kitchen with his plate, looking toward Johnny.

Steve had turned the TV on, flipping channels aimlessly. Then he stood up. "I'll go make sure Darry's… you know," he said, walking off into the kitchen.

Meanwhile Johnny sat on the couch, not really doing anything in particular, until Darry came back with Steve behind him. Darry handed Johnny his plate of eggs and a piece of cake. Then he sat down in his chair across from Johnny.

"So," Darry said. "Johnny." Johnny looked up at Darry. "Johnny," Darry repeated, "you know you are always welcome here, right?"

Johnny's eyes briefly flashed over to Steve with a look that screamed, _you told!_ "Yeah, Darry, I know."

"But… But it's more than that, Johnny. It's not just that you can come here. It's that we like it when you do. We _all_ like it when you do." Darry emphasized.

Johnny looked away, down at the ground again.

"Look at me," said Darry. Johnny's head raised a little and he peered up through his hair. "It's okay, Johnny. Really. I like having you come stay with us. I _like_ making dinner for four and having you sleep on the couch. I _like_ waking you up in the morning to go to school, and lending you a pair of Ponyboy's clothes. Really, I do. Don't you ever feel like you aren't wanted here, because you are. And sometimes I just wish that everyone would tell you that you are so you would stop being so stubborn and come over once in a while." Darry touched Johnny on the shoulder. "Ponyboy loves having a friend like you, and Soda likes seeing you around, too. And I know for a fact that Dallas Winston would be awful mad to hear you say that you don't belong here."

Johnny looked at Darrel, straight in the eye, and saw that Darry meant what he said. Was that why he never looked people in the eye? Was he afraid to see what they really meant? He looked over at Steve again, who had been watching the two, and saw a look of concern in Steve's hard eyes.

"So stop thinking like that," Darry almost whispered, "okay?"

Johnny nodded his head, trying to keep the tears from falling from his eyes. "Okay," he whispered back.


End file.
